Wishes and Wings (8 page)

As the summer went on, the faeries' meadow became more beautiful. The berry bushes and everything else they had planted grew so fast that Alida wondered if her mother had made more new magic. But she didn't ask.

Once the bushes and the slender trees were tall enough, the faeries built a log fence inside one of the wide circles.

It became a pasture for their cows and goats.

Inside the other circle they built three log sheds.

The biggest one was for the weavers. They would need room for their looms and spinning wheels, their spider boxes and bags of thistledown.

The smallest shed covered the entrance to a deep root cellar, where they would keep berry jam and dried lilac flowers and sweet winter squash and whatever else they raised in their gardens.

The third was for the cheesemakers to work in. As soon as it was finished, the faeries started saving every drop of soured milk.

No one said it aloud, but Alida knew they all wanted to have enough cheese to share and hoped they could find a way to do it.

“We need more glass jars,” Aunt Lily said one evening when they were all watching fireflies. “We
are going to be swimming in berries. Too bad we can't go to Market Square.”

Alida saw her mother sigh.

“We used to steal a handful of seed corn now and then on the way home,” William said wistfully. “I miss corn. The cows would like it too.”

Aunt Lily smiled. “We always left something in trade. Berries, or a good spoon carved from oak heartwood.”

Alida's mother stood up suddenly. “We have to get used to the way things are now.”

Her voice was high and angry, and everyone stopped talking when she walked away.

Alida followed her.

They crossed the meadow and found a place to sit in the soft summer grass.

“The longer faeries live in one place,” her mother said, the words rushing out, “the more their magic seeps into the soil and the water. In the other place we had sick babies and elders every
winter. We tried to heal them all, but some died.”

Alida stared at her. “Because there wasn't enough magic there?”

“Yes. I think being away from home weakened us,” her mother said. “I haven't said it because I can't be sure. But when William and Lily talk like that …” She shook her head and looked up at the sky, then back at Alida. “It doesn't help. And I need everyone to help.”

“Did old Lord Dunraven know about the magic in the ground and the water?” Alida asked.

Her mother shrugged. “If he did, he didn't care.”

Alida remembered how desperate Gavin had been when he thought his grandmother might not get well without magic.

“When we lived here, did we help humans get well?” she asked her mother.

“Yes,” her mother said. “But faeries also stole from humans sometimes. And no matter what Lily says, we didn't always leave a trade gift. Sometimes
we played tricks on people and sometimes they stole from us. But mostly we were good neighbors, until Dunraven's law made us afraid of each other.”

Alida's mother stopped talking, and the silence of the deep woods settled around them. They sat close together and looked at the stars before they went to bed.

Alida made two decisions before she went to sleep.

She was going to do something—and she was going to keep it a secret.

Part of her reason for not telling anyone was that she wasn't sure she
could
do it. But even after she was almost certain she would be able to, she didn't talk about it. She was afraid her mother would think it was too dangerous.

And maybe it was.

But she wasn't like anyone else in her family.

She hadn't grown up among faeries.

She had spent so many years by herself in Lord Dunraven's tower.

None of the faeries had helped her. Not even her own family.

They'd had very good reasons for it, she knew, and they were sorry. But that didn't change the deep-rooted and thorn-sharp loneliness she had lived with for so long.

And it was Gavin who had saved her from it.

His love for his grandmother had made him brave enough to try to get faerie help.

No matter what the law said.

No matter how dangerous it was for him to try to free her.

Gavin was like an older brother to her.

Ruth and Molly had risked breaking Lord Dunraven's law for her too.

They would be doing everything they could to help the people of Ash Grove, she was sure. And so would she.

Alida did her work every day, but she practiced the new magic every chance she got.

She began flying over the village of Ash Grove while everyone was asleep. She memorized where the farms were, where the roads started and ended. Flying was much faster than walking. She could get home before sunrise if she hurried.

Her wings got stronger and stronger.

She flew higher and higher, too.

She found wind currents that pushed her faster than she had ever gone before.

Twice she circled above Ruth Oakes's house, thinking about landing lightly, figuring out which window was Gavin's, and waking him up to ask for advice.

But she didn't want him to help, just in case things went wrong.

10

S
ummer was coming to an end.

The barley was turning from green to the color of good butter.

Farmers and their families were tying the ripe stalks into big bundles and stacking them high.

They piled the hay grass and began to cut the squash and pumpkins from their vines.

The winnowed wheat and millet were heaped up in mounds as big as the houses.

Twice Alida hid in trees in the daytime, watching, remembering what Gavin had said about harvesttime.

No one was singing this year.

No one looked happy.

The humans looked like the faeries did—scared, worried, and angry.

One evening Terra pulled Alida aside after a wonderful dinner of lilies, raspberries, and the most tender wood's roses she had ever tasted.

“I just wanted to tell you that I am grateful,” she said.

Alida smiled. “Why? I didn't do any of the cooking or—”

“Not that,” Terra interrupted. “I don't know where you're going at night or what you are doing. But I know it is something I wouldn't be brave enough to do.”

Alida almost pretended that she didn't know what Terra was talking about.

Then she hugged her instead.

By the night before the first full moon of harvest, Alida was ready.

She knew where all of the haystacks and carefully
built piles of squash were on each of the thirty-six farms in Ash Grove. She knew where the farmers had stored their onions and piled their sheaves of barley, wheat, and oats. She knew the exact order in which she would visit each farm.

At the first one she used the lifting magic she had been practicing to move half the farm's harvest to a far corner of the field.

It took almost no time at all.

Then she wove her fingers in the air and used the names of the crops the way her mother had used the names of the faeries.

And it worked, just like it had with her shawl. In the moonlight she watched everything she had moved disappear.

She used simple lifting magic to make the visible piles rounded and neat again so that the guards wouldn't suspect anything.

Then she flew to the next farm.

And the next.

And then the next, getting farther and farther from home.

She was so quick and so silent that the farm dogs didn't even wake up.

But by the time she was almost finished, she was very tired.

She ran toward a huge pile of squash without seeing the human girl sitting beside it.

Alida stopped, scared, then realized the girl was asleep.

Alida recognized her. She was the one who had been crying in the woods. Alida tiptoed past. She moved everything but the squash and made it all invisible.

Then she decided she had to move at least some of the squash.

None of the other farms had piles this big now. The guards might wonder if the other farmers were hiding some of their harvest.

But if she woke the girl …

Silently, slowly, Alida moved almost half of the squash to the other end of the field.

When she was finished, she flew in a quick circle to see if she had forgotten anything.

Then she flew home.

Jittery, excited, and scared, she slid under her blankets. She couldn't sleep. She was hoping, with all her heart, that she had done the right thing.

The farmers would be furious when they woke up and saw half their harvest was missing.

They wouldn't suspect magic. No one in Ash Grove besides Gavin, his grandmother, and Ruth knew the faeries had come home. People might think some of Lord Dunraven's guards had robbed them. But no one would accuse the guards. They wouldn't dare.

By early evening the wagons and the guards would be on their way back to Lord Dunraven's castle.

The piles of food Alida had hidden would be safe.

As soon as it was dark, she would fly from farm to farm again, this time ending the magic.

So when the farmers and their families woke up, they would find a wonderful surprise.

Instead of less food for the winter, they would have more than usual.

Looking up at the stars, Alida imagined their faces.

Maybe they would dance and sing this year after all.

And they would figure out magic had been used.

They would figure out that their faerie neighbors had come home and were helping them.

Alida closed her eyes. It would be wonderful to stop hiding from the people of Ash Grove.

It would change everything.

Maybe she wouldn't have to hide her friendship with Gavin.

She closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

The next day passed slowly—too slowly.

Terra kept glancing at her, but she didn't say anything.

Alida helped pick the last of the berries, wishing she could go see what was happening in Ash Grove. That night she waited until everyone was asleep.

Then she slid out of her covers and glided to the ground.

She walked a ways before she flew, to keep anyone from hearing her wings.

And then she flew
fast
.

11